Leisurely Scribbles (part 5) (Part 1)

Hobbies & Pastimes Hobbies & Pastimes: Chat / Discussions
16482

So that’s how you spell Bossa Nova. I don’t think I have ever seen it writ before. Even my pooter’s spill-chucker doesn’t recognise it.
It sounds to me more like the appointment of a new head of a French company than a dance, but then what would I know. I can just about do the pointy finger Dad-dance, but that’s it.

It’s a shame. I can’t think much that is nicer than holding your lady fair close in a tight embrace, but I just can’t coordinate or follow a rhythm.
We had ballroom dancing lessons when we were a courting, but I was hopeless. We would dance into a corner and then my Lovely Cousin would have to dance us out again otherwise we would be stuck there for ages.

I’m hopeless at remembering sequences, and you could see my lips moving and my brow furrowed with concentration as we moved around the floor in a series of jerks, most of them being me.

I’m the same with mental arithmetic. I can do complicated sums and follow complicated processes as long as they are writ down, but I can’t do sums in my head for toffee.

When our local church had a belfry open day prior to the six bells being taken down for re-tuning, I had a go at ringing them. Apparently my technique was most excellent and I was invited to become a bell-ringer, but I had to decline. I just couldn’t remember and follow the sequences and all the different changes required.

A tour of the church, up into the belfry to see the bells, a go at ringing two of the bells using different techniques, and a cup of tea and biscuits. All for 50p, (about 60 something euro-cents at the time).
That was darned good value for money.

There were a couple of stalls selling all sorts of things from books to plants, including a lady selling jams and stuff to raise money for the retuning. I bought a jar of the best tasting chutney I have ever had. Orange, apple, date, and fig I think it was. I’ve never found anything like it before or since.

Jem, I don’t know if you have seen it or are interested, or can even get it, but we have a new TV programme by here on the BBC 2 called, All that Glitters. It’s about putting up and coming jewellers through their paces and getting them to show all sorts of different techniques.

When I saw the advert for it I thought of you.

16483

:lol:
Don’t forget the Tijuana Brass Spitty. :wink:

I had a bulb moment last night in me sleep, I dreamt I was bald.:slight_smile:

I got me second jab of Pfizer today, the neat one not the clotty one, and I was handed the little clock thing timed for the fifteen minutes you have to wait afore ye go.
I was then sent into a well spaced out waiting room where another old lad was sitting with his clock in hand anxiously waiting for his fifteen minutes of fame to be up so he could go home.

God help him he was very nervous, he said hello to me and told me his arm was a little sore, then he looked at the clock again and at the exit door. I tried to cheer him up a bit by saying.
“If your thinking of making a run for it mate forget it, if you go before the buzzer goes they drag you back in again and give you another jab, then they handcuff you to the chair and you have to wait another half an hour”
He managed a forced smile then his buzzer went off, he threw it on the table and made a bee line for the door.:smiley:

I used to go dancing regularly Fruity, there could be some tense times for a young lad.

All us lads at dances were terrified of refusals if we asked a girl out on a date, God knows it was tough enough getting up the guts to ask without being hammered with a flat refusal.
We had a ready made answer for the girls who refused, trying desperately to regain one’s self respect, but you had to put the question right, like this.

Boy, shyly: “Are you doing anything tomorrow night?”
Girl, arrogantly: “Yes I am”
Boy, smugly: “Well don’t forget to pull the chain when your finished”:wink:

I always wanted to have a go at real bell ringing, campanology I believe it’s called, the nearest I ever got to it was when I was an altar boy and I used to climb the tower to ring the single church bell for the angelus at 12pm or 6pm., I still remember the sequence, three threes and a nine, with a 15 second pause in between each, that was it.

Yes Fruity I did watch the first part of that jewellery program and enjoyed it, shame that it’s a knockout thing though, they came up with some very original designs and of course there can only be one finished item selected, giving them a time limit too is not very helpful in my opinion, but being made for TV I suppose they have to watch the time. I liked the instructor fella, very fair chap I thought.
I won’t be watching it again as I hate to see the young folks being disappointed week after week, I’m an old softie and I know what it’s like, I feel for them all. :frowning:

16484

I had a Bulb moment also, dreamt I was a Tulip, sailing down the Amstel on a Dutch Barge.

16485

:smiley: What a beautiful Springtime sight that would make. :slight_smile:

I remember Telly Savalas on a chat show here when he was in Dublin, I think he had a few jars on him but he sellotaped a bunch of daffodils onto his head then got up on the stage and sang “If your going to San Francisco be sure to wear some flowers in your hair”, a good sport rest his soul.

An old lad recently asked me what I thought of euthanasia.
I said I couldn’t answer him as I don’t know any youths in Asia. ;-):smiley:

Billy the Kid
“As with plenty of Old West icons, Henry McCarty (1859 – 1881) rose to notoriety thanks to the myths surrounding his actions, rather than their truths. Also called William H. Bonney before receiving his iconic title of Billy the Kid, McCarty enjoyed 21 short years of lawlessness prior to being shot in Fort Sumner, NM, by Sheriff Pat Garrett. This is one of two photographs in common knowledge. Known as a tintype, this image was unearthed in Fresno, California within a junk shop among a stack of photos in 2010 thanks to a collector’s efforts. Pictured we have McCarty posing at an 1878 wedding, playing croquet with his gang, called the Regulators, and their loved ones.” Source: “History 10”

https://i.postimg.cc/43qNdCyy/Billy-the-Kid.jpg

Well blow me down! the notorious desperado Billy the Kid who shot dead 8 men before his 21st birthday, playing croquet! what a surprise for me, I mean even the squeaky clean Milky Bar Kid didn’t play croquet, tough hombres wouldn’t be seen dead on a croquet pitch! the shame of it.:blush:
I always thought croquet was a snobs game for old wealthy grannies and grandads.

I was led to believe the only game outlaws played was poker in the Saloon, and only in between bank robberies, stealing the deeds of gold mines from helpless old prospectors, and rustling cows.
Wouldn’t surprise me now if he only drank milk in the croquet clubhouse either, he was only an old pussy after all.;-):lol:

Here’s another old photo, this one is the real Calamity Jane, my God what a hatchet she was, an undertaker wouldn’t take her out, as they used to say.:wink:

Hollywood sure has a lot to answer for, I always thought Calamity Jane resembled Doris Day, or at least slightly, what a shock for an old western fan like me.:frowning:

https://i.postimg.cc/9M9Xwxwp/Calamity-Jane.jpg

16486

No surprise here.

16487

“Ah the auld nerves are at her again”
Many’s the time I heard my granny say that when my Aunt was in bad humour.

Nerves were a big thing back in the 30’s/40’s/50s, doctors made fortunes treating people for ‘nerves’, especially women.

They even had nerve specialists, anything from madness to a rash was diagnosed as ‘nerves’

People took nervous conditions very seriously back then, half the population of these isles were victims of some type of nervous affliction, nerves were the staff everyone leaned on when something went wrong health wise, and for the fidgety kids it was ‘Worms’ “Stay still, are ya full of worms or what?”:smiley:

They have new names for all the old nerve complaints now, everything that happens to the human body has a sparkling new name for it, and if you think there’s nothing wrong with you then don’t go to the doctor for a checkup thinking you’ll be just in and out, you won’t get off that lightly, because he’ll think of something to give you, he has a stack of new stuff begging to be given out.
He’s on a percentage you see, and he’s selling as well as doctoring. ;-):slight_smile:

“What would you like me to give you Jem? you can have a short spat of MYEF, or how about a painless weeks dose of DWRR?, alternatively you can have the special offer this week, a complete course of YPSR, plus 24 tables of XYBR containing FTY!” :confused::confused:

You’re automatically supposed to know what all these abbreviations are, it’s like on here when some folks are on about what they have and just supply the letters, sorry but I haven’t a clue what the letters mean, everyone seems to at it these these days.:slight_smile:

“No thanks doctor, I’m alright, just a little IDUA, otherwise I’m fine.”

If you can’t beat ‘em join ‘em, I Don’t Understand Abbreviations—-IDUA.:-):wink:

“Ah the new ailment IDUA! a lot of folks your age have that, we have a booklet on it, explains everything in simple terms, like a mother telling her child the facts of life, it’s entitled MAME—Medical Abbreviations Made Easy, shall I get you one?

“Don’t bother Doctor, you can SIUYA.”;-):lol:

Then you’ll go home and tell your other half you’re sorry you went to the doc and then start to worry whether you might already have the MYEF or the YPSR he was on about, but don’t fret, it’s all only nerves.:smiley:

https://i.postimg.cc/3NFKMvFh/ec4f0569372d62eba78b767b82f0c88e.jpg

16488

I was reading an old police case from the British files that are readily available to the public online.
Here’s a modified condensed version, rude language omitted.

A quirky little case of a young chap demobbed after world war one and visiting a Liverpool brothel for his first time back in 1919.

It seems the poor fellow was drunk when he entered the ‘parlour’ of the brothel to select one of the ladies there, he was so excited at the range of lovely scantly clad women that he quickly stripped off naked and pranced about the large room proudly displaying all he had in front of him, while singing at the top of his voice “I’ve got a lovely bunch of coconuts”. :shock:

It was a shock for every girl in the room, not only because of his sudden nakedness but the fact that he had three testicles. (not as common as one, not as natural as two, very rare to have three but still quite a few cases documented as I found out when I got the 1-2-3 on the internet);-):slight_smile:

I suppose those of us in the jewellery trade would call that a “Three stone cross-over”, three diamonds going cross wise in an engagement ring, long gone out of fashion.

He then made a grab for the nearest girl to him and forced himself upon her, he was swiftly removed from the room by two burly bouncers who restrained him while a third went out and got a policeman.

He was held overnight in the Bridewell and appeared before a magistrate the following morning, the ’Madam’ of the brothel gave testimony, adding at the end of it.

“Ours is a very respected escort agency your honour, we pride ourselves in providing female company to lonely respectable men, and we don’t want any potential customers to get the idea they can lower themselves to this type of showmanship behaviour, it’s disgusting!”

The judge agreed, but gave the woman this advice.

“Madam, I suggest you erect some painted or printed sign outside your establishment to enlighten potential clients to be on good behaviour when they enter the said premises, and be sure the wording is responsibly composed, be very discreet as to not offend innocent passers by.”

“I’ll gladly see to that your honour, thank you.”

The poor punter got a months jail, and two days later a new sign appeared over the brothel entrance.

“People in brass houses shouldn’t show stones” :slight_smile:

Sorry folks, that’s just an example of what too much lockdown can do the an old man’s mind when he knows too many old adages, they keep coming back at you.:lol:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=/0cPXwc-5Kw8

16489

Good arvos to yaz all - I am wandering around the old antipoedian isle atm and was told I could get a warm cup of rosee lee or glass of stout or double shot of the irish firewater. So if I could be troublin yas for a milkladies stool to rest me weary pins on I’ll come and have a yarn and tell ya a tale or two from time to time. What time is it by the way green witch forecast? and I’ve been told to report to big yun boss called Boris for Covid timetable duties? mindin the bars; beer tents and brothels? God ya a wild lot of here toby shaw!!

There was a young lady from Eeling
Who used to like sex on the ceiling
When her boyfriend asked now?
She said “if you know how”
And proceeded her clothes to start peeling!

thought I’d keep the theme running from the brothel story?

16490

Hello Bret and a very warm welcome to you, we have several great members here from Australia and the more the merrier.:slight_smile:

Feel free to drop in anytime and add whatever you like, only please don’t start any political ‘debates’ in this thread, jaysus knows we have enough of them already, and now they’re starting to escape from the political section and leak out all over the place like covid19.:shock:

You sound like a lively fellow, should be no problem for you to blend in with the rest of us nuts who scribble here, we had seven regular scribblers at one time, now we are reduced to three for a variety of reasons.

We have Spitfire who cuts through the air with witty one-liners and poems, he provides lots of aviation fuel for thought, he’ll have you spaced out in no time, then there’s Fruitcake who produces a harvest of fruitful clever writings and poems, he’s also good at twisting words.

Happy scribbling youngfella!. :slight_smile:

There was a loose woman God bless her
Who threw her leg over the dresser
One shelf was too high, it caught on her thigh
Now she is one leg the lesser.

Much as I’d love to I can’t offer you a drop of the craythur or a bottle of stout, distance prevents.
You’ll have to settle for a song.
Here’s an old tune to remind men to be careful of females we meet on the street.;-):slight_smile:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=/CBRQM0vErH8

16491

well tanks be to ya young fella for that warm welcome - it was a few years now that i was walkin along the banks of the Liffey in the glorious sunshine of Dublin. The pubs were full to the gunnels and all I could hear was the lilt of those colleens sittin alongside and they don’t talk slow do they those Dubliners, music to me ears. What a more peaceful world it was too. well young fella I was just lookin at me world clocks and sees ya 1.30am over there right now - you must be getting ready for the w/end revelry!

16492

We was headin for the castle with the blarney stone affair [no true story this - cross me heart etc] and strangely enough stopped in a lovely quaint pub on the way [ arh but aren’t they all] and the place was quite empty at lunch time which I thought was rather strange. Anyhow we bumped into a fella with his young daughter in a perambulator and got talkin to him as ya do and he told us either he or his wife was a local doctor I think it was her? - and so he was out for stroll and bumped into the pub. Anyways we got chattin and told him we woz headin for the blarney stone - well he had this quizzical look about him that was just beggin the next question - wot? wot? - well he said in a hushed tone

" I’m local see even though I do look like a carribean indian and wot folklore I have heard is that some of the local boyscouts regularly climb up to the stone which is right atop of the castle and pee all over it just to get it toned up so to speak in readiness for the next days tourists - which was us!
I can’t prove it mind you but that’s the local rumour. Well we went with the other 100 tourists queued outside queued up the windy old stone stairs and finally got to the top - perilous it was - we had to lay down on a stone then put the head through an aperture and kiss another over hanging stone and all the time I was thinking is someone taking the piss about this??

https://www.google.com/search?q=picture+of+the+blarney+stone&rlz=1C1CHZN_enAU942AU942&tbm=isch&source=iu&ictx=1&fir=V03UOCEmKiOJcM%2CNJpABqB7yM0dKM%2C_&vet=1&usg=AI4_-kQy8wBfODNHcOakRy-_3nAki5zfZw&sa=X&ved=2ahUKEwjc36WejqXwAhXywzgGHbqMAAsQ9QF6BAgLEAE#imgrc=V03UOCEmKiOJcM

that’s me in the red jumper - he got hold of me jumper and said “nice jumper” I thought he said “ready to jump” and nearly took off!

heh daya need a Phd to post pics here?

16493

heh daya need a Phd to post pics here?

No, the only licence required in here is a poetic one.

16494

You have to be careful, sticking your head through stuff.

16495

oh you can put rude pics on then? but don’t open the pc before 7.30pm?

there was a young man with a trunk
who seemed to be terrible drunk
though they pulled and they shoved
he seemed terribly stuffed
and he screamed 'heh get ya hands off you 'orrible punk"

16496

well here’s our version of postman Pat

16497

now you will notice in this ozzie version which is permissible for children the swagman aka [postman bill] is sitting under the tree not doing silly things and sticking his head in it? He then jumps up and grabs a jumbuk aka kanga and sticks him in his tuckerbag aka [school satchel] humanely and still alive. Then along comes a squatter [aka farmer] and the troopers [aka cops] and stole the bloody kanga off of the swagman – lot of history wrapped up in that one spittie aka spitfire – ozzie history 101

ps: think I’ve got the hang of the utubes - taste quite nice too!

pps: moral of the tale - never leave ya arse exposed whilst noddying a tree trunk?

16498

Hello bret, and welcome to the mad-house. Abandon hope all ye who press enter here.

R Mar was born in Oz; Perth WA to be precise.
My grandad survived the horrors of WW1 and emigrated from the UK to join other family members in a farming venture as part of a Government Soldier-Settler scheme in 1919.
He sent for his fiance, my granny, in 1922. She had the banns read on the boat on the way over, and they were wed in Perth the day after she landed in Freemantle.

When the depression hit, the farm could no longer support three families so my grandad brought his family back to England when R Mar was eleven. Had he not done so, I would not have become me.

I always meant to visit Oz and see if I could find the old homestead, but sadly I think I have left it too late due to failing health.

Nice jumper. I see you like subtle colours. :smiley:

We’ve had a couple of daytrips to Dublin, including a visit to the most holy place that is the Guinness brewery.
You might catch me kissing a bottle of stout, but never some bacteria infected piece of rock.

Now then, cowboys and myths. There used to be a US TV show called Alias Smith and Jones about a couple of outlaws by the name of Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry. The myth was that they weren’t all that bad: chaps who were trying to reform and had never hurt anyone in their lives.

The truth was that the real Kid Curry was a nasty piece of work who had murdered several lawmen and civilians before taking his own life to avoid capture after being shot and wounded by one of his robbery victims.

In the old days of cinema, the villain always wore a black hat and the hero a white one. I would like it to be known that I do indeed own, and sometimes wear a white hat in order to protect the solar panel that is the top of my bald head.

16499

Well thank you FC for that warm welcome and plethora of stories across the boards! - Yes I have spent some time in Perth a windy city at times the tall buildings and now narrow central roads cause wind tunnels! - I think it has been called windy city but the same would apply to Sydney and Melbourne etc.

Fremantle is different and a quaint seaport with lovely old hostelry without the horses and carts. Yes i have been thrown out of many a pub there - accidentally in most cases. Hard to find good cigar purveyors these days but there is a good one in Fremantle run by a Japanese gentleman - I think he likes selling torpedoes!

old homesteads sometimes don’t survive too long here because of the intense sun and those creatures that live in wooden structures and eat them from inside? buildings [wooden] can seem to be very well preserved and sound and then you lean on one and down it goes! - if you knew the exact location I could hire a hot air balloon and fly around and look for it ?

you would fit in very well with our rural populations - they all were hats - usually of course the famed Akubra. I once had an almost brand new one but my head kept swelling - probably because of my increasing self- confidence which often gets me into trouble - so it became too tight and interfered with the blood flows to my ears so I gave it to one of my grandaughters and have never seen her wear it although they are of course extremely popular with the female horsy crowd out here as well as rural girls in gneneral.

I feel like I am writing the foreward to a travel book here but I have been to many places all across oz - so do ask questions and I’ll make every effort to make up the answers!!

The was a young fellow from Perth - oh never mind tell you that one next time. We’ve got some one with a roo lose in the top paddock and have to deal with it immediately!!

sez ya later !

16500

Thanks for the kind offer.

My Mum left Oz in 1937, but went back in the early eighties and found her old home. The walls were still standing and as was the timber frame roof, minus a few sheets of corrugated iron.

It was made of mud-and-cement blocks. Grandad made them by hand and granny set them on racks to dry. I have photos of her and R Mar standing next to a pile.

The farm was called Elberton after the village in England where grandad came from, and was up in the wheat belt near Carnama. It was eventually bought out to become part of a much larger farm complex, but still called Eleberton Farms.

Mum and her nephew who she met up with over there were parked outside the farm entrance looking at the name above the gate when the farmer came out in his Ute and asked if he could help. Mum showed him the pics of the old homestead and was told, it’s a few miles thataway.
He took mum and her nephew back to the farm to meet his missus, then drove them over to the old house that grandad had built.

The story of farm and some photos are included in a book about the pioneers, called Westward to the Sea

I’ve got photos of the place when new, and when my Mum visited as well for comparison.

I sent copies of photos from around the farm to the Carnama Historic society, including a pic of a stump-jump plough pulled by a team of six horses, as well as grandad driving a tractor.

I also sent several souvenirs picked up from the boats my family travelled on between England and Australia to the Museum Victoria in Canberra.

Here’s R Mar aged about six or seven going off to school on her horse, Topsy. I think the school was several miles away in a place called Billeroo.

1270×800 177 KB

I’m related to the original owners of the Margaret River Hotel, and sent the current owners some photos I was given of the place being built.

16501

Well that sounds like a fair dinkum aussie story for sure and there she still stands fifty K’s south of woop woop! - glad ya got it in the history records of oz. Carnamah come to think about it I think I passed through there about 25 years ago on a round trip with a mate from Bristol UK. we gone up country along the coastal route and then came back to show him some inland country down through those small farm towns in off the coast - yep that was one of them for sure. Nice country when we went through but can get bloody hot and dry.

had a few drinks at the Margaret River Hotel too and stayed down there in wood cabins “in the woods”! nearly shifted house to down there too with the second sheila!

well I’ll be blowed ya got me old brain cells zappin away for a minute there! good on ya blue